Molly shuffled cards with nimble fingers, eyes darting between hands. "Listen, slag-brain, it's the last weekend before the holidays. All those brats'll be getting new toys. We crack this party, they're our little cauliflowers." Bill picked at his teeth with a compass, squinting at Molly through the cloud of his own bad breath. "You mean our cash cows?" "Whatever, knob-gobbler." Molly fanned the cards out on the table. "Point is, we need an in. A distraction so we can mosey on in and scoop up the loot." Bill rubbed his stubbly chin, brow furrowed in concentration. The sound of his beard particles readjusting filled the room. "I've got it! We dress up as clowns and offer to do games and balloon animals. Then once we've got their attention, we make our move!" Molly snorted, sending playing cards flying across the room. "Are you mental? You can'tidigest make balloon animals to save your life." She grabbed a nearby pack of smokes and lit up, blowing a perfect smoke ring in Bill's face. "No, we'll need something else. Something sneaky." Bill coughed and waved the smoke away, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. "Okay, okay, what's your grand scheme then, oh wise one?" Molly grinned, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth. "We'll snag the guestlist, fake an invite, and waltz right in as the kids' parents. Once we're inside, we'll slip away and grab the presents while they're all distracted playing musical chairs or whatever the hell they get up to at those things." Bill nodded slowly, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, I love it! And with my mad fighting skills, if anyone gets in our way, I'll just beat the living daylights out of them!" He flexed his biceps, which were roughly the size of sausages. Molly rolled her eyes. "Bollocks to that, meathead. We need stealth, not brutality. Now, let's run through it again so you actually remember what to do." She re-activated her cigarette, took a long drag. "We go in, we find the presents, we take 'em. Then we leg it back here, and flog the lot on the black market." Bill saluted clumsily, nearly punching himself in the face in the process. "Aye-aye, cap'n! But what if... What if they've got those attack dogs guarding the presents?" Molly scoffed. "You reckon some yuppie cashed-uparse has a security dog outside a bunch of kids' presents? Nah, we'll be in and out before they even know what's happening." She began casually dealing the cards again, splitting the deck between them. "It'll be a cinch, Bill. Just stick to the plan, and don't go getting yourself locked up. I still need you to help me carry the haul." Bill nodded emphatically, scooping up his cards and studying his hand. "Don't you worry, Mol. I won't let you down." He looked up, meeting her eyes with a determined glint. "We'll rob those snotty-nosed brats blind, just like we always do. First-class tickets to the Bahamas, here we come!" Molly laughed, a full-bodied, ugly sound. "Don't push it, you cheese-munching muppet. But yeah, a little holiday wouldn't go amiss." She threw down her cards, face burning in a victorious grin. "Looks like I'm still the one to beat. Catch you tomorrow, yeah?" Bill humphed, his own cards lying forgotten on the table. "Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow." He stood up, cracking his back with a groan. "See ya, Mol. And remember: no matter what, we're a team." Molly was already out the door, the heavy metal door slamming behind her with a resounding bang that echoed through the abandoned warehouse. She paused for a moment, letting the salt-tasting Phibsop air of the city settle in her lungs. It was a fool's errand, she knew that. But the thrill of it, the exhilaration, the danger... There was nothing quite like it in this world of backstabbing politicians and sugar-coated capitalist bullshit. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the heel of her boot. Tomorrow, they'd get their haul. Tomorrow, they'd laugh all the way to the bank. And for now, that was enough.